For Want Of A Key
by Mardy Lass
Summary: Ten and Martha, pre'Utopia', let the TARDIS pick their next destination. Spaceships, lost identities and some old, old homegrown technology ensue. Rated T for some language and situations. Extra long and extra crunchy!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

_Wow, this took ages! It were supposed to be another 4 or 5 chapter thing, but turned into 13! Couldn't help it, sorry._

_Takes place BEFORE the TV series ep 3.11 ('__Utopia'), as I started writing this before they started on spaceships and stuff! Just not fair..._

_Not sure it'll stand up under too close a scrutiny. Please be nice!_

* * *

**ONE**

Martha relaxed and smiled, feeling the strong sun on her face and hearing the birds call and cry in the distance.

_This is more like it_, she thought, opening her eyes and shielding them from the harsh glare, opening them gradually to look at the patterns of the clouds.

"That one looks like you," she chuckled out loud, raising a hand and pointing at it. "With huge eyes and no chin, until it gets upset," she teased.

There was no answer and she waited. She heard the unmistakable sound of a soft snore and let her hand drop, turning her head to her right.

The Doctor was also flat on his back, his hands behind his head. But the strong sun and horizontal environment had robbed him of his will to take an interest in any world.

She sighed to herself, rolling onto her right side and putting her hand under her cheek. She flicked her gaze to the stiff weave of his coat, on which they were lying, then back at him.

"Am I that interesting?" she asked herself quietly. "At least you didn't chuck me out after I declared my undying love for you," she added tartly. "God, that was _stupid_."

She watched him, wondering if he were dreaming.

_What do Time Lords dream about?_ she heard herself wondering.

She thought she noticed a slight twitch to his eye, but then sighed and told herself to stop watching him.

_There's something private about sleeping, even if you do it full view of others._

She shifted onto her back again, taking a deep breath of sea air and smiling again.

"Certainly beats working," she said conversationally. "Tell you what, this has been a fab break. I hadn't realised how hard I was working till I stopped."

He grunted something unintelligible suddenly and she looked over at him.

"Doctor?" she asked.

"Working," he mumbled, sighing to himself. She sat up quickly. She leaned over and walloped him in the chest area.

His eyes crashed open and he sat up abruptly. He looked around quickly, disorientated. He realised she was a few feet to his left and looked over at her, non-plussed.

"What?" he blurted.

"You little cheat," she accused.

"What?" he said quickly, confused.

"You were listening to everything I said!"

"What?"

"Even when you're asleep you're bloody well listening!" she accused, but then had to smile at the way he looked around furtively, expecting trouble.

He put a hand up to his chest slowly, rubbing it gingerly for a second.

"It's not working," he said defensively.

"What isn't?" she asked gamely.

"The Jorina Field By-pass Regulator," he said, looking back at her.

"Oh!" she said quickly. "You mean, you were just thinking about that by-pass regulator thing?" she dared.

"Have been for a while. Well, you know, on and off. Actually, it acts up quite a lot," he said conversationally, letting his hand drop from his front and instead leaning both hands behind him to shift his weight to them comfortably. He looked out over the grass on top of the cliff. "Not exactly what you'd call 'reliable'," he added to himself. "Still, what do you expect from a race of beings with more tools than workers?" he sniffed.

"Oh. Sorry," she said quietly.

"Sorry for what?" he asked curiously, looking at her.

"Well, I just thought you -. Oh, nothing, forget it," she said.

"Ok then," he said brightly, getting to his feet slowly, "break over." She began to get up slowly. "Even for you Earth doctors who work too hard. Come on," he said, simply picking up his coat and shaking it out.

She opened her mouth, stunned, but then just let it go. She turned toward the TARDIS, about thirty feet behind them.

"You know, Doctor, you really should get out more if you have to resort to listening even when you're asleep," she teased, and he threw his coat over his arm before following her in the direction of the police box.

"Me?" he prompted. "Get out more? Are you bored of me already?"

She pulled out her key and unlocked the door, pushing it open and walking in. The familiar slight hum of power, the smell of some foreign metal, the lighting which seemed to be tinged slightly orange today, all reminded her immediately of a thousand things; Shakespeare, alien faces, boiling suns, motorways, angels, daleks…

"All I'm saying is," she said, pausing to wait for him to step into the ship and close the door behind him, "some days you spend too much time thinking about this thing and not enough time thinking about yourself."

"This thing?" he prompted, confused. She waved her hands around slowly.

"The TARDIS. I mean, I know she's important to you and everything, but she _is_ just a ship," she said, trying to be gentle.

"She's all I've got left of home," he said flatly, walking past her deliberately and up to the console.

"Oh. Yeah," she realised slowly. He looked at her for a long moment, then back at the console.

"Forget it. Where to?" he asked cheerfully.

"I don't know – you pick," she said, making herself smile warmly.

"Nah, I get side-tracked," he admitted with a smile. "Tell you what, we'll let _her_ pick," he said happily. He reached out and moved a few levers, then realised Martha hadn't spoken. He looked up quickly as he slid his hand over a few buttons. "What now?" he asked innocently.

"Doctor… Just… Look, she's great, and she's this big amazing miracle of trans-dimensional engineering –"

"_Transcendental­_," he corrected.

"Whatever. But she's still a ship. The _Titanic_ was an amazing feat of workmanship, but she was just a ship, too," she pointed out gently. She was aware her face was slightly pathetic, but she didn't care. "Do you see?" she asked.

He slid his eyes to the console, then back to her. He didn't move for a long moment.

"Or not? I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, Doctor."

He sniffed, and then his eyes alone slid back to the console under his fingers. She waited and sure enough, his gaze slipped back over to her silently. He sucked in a deep breath, nodding and straightening, taking his hands from the console quickly. He stepped back one swiftly.

"Yep," he said quickly, nodding. "No, yeah, absolutely," he added smartly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, 'course," he said quickly, nodding and looking at her with those large brown eyes that radiated calm and innocence.

"Right then," she said, "I'll, er, get some tea." She turned and walked off.

He didn't move, just waited until he couldn't hear her feet on the grating any more.

Then he sniffed, looking round to make sure she was definitely _not_ still stood there.

He put his left hand out slowly to the centre console, hesitating briefly before letting his fingers connect with the cool surface. He flattened his palm out against it, smoothing it up slowly, then pulling it down again gently.

"She didn't mean it," he reassured the surface softly.

-------------------------------------------------

"Here we are then," he said cheerfully, watching through a small viewer as he twisted a small ball in the console. "Oh. Unexpected," he mused to himself.

"Well you did let _her_ choose," she said sweetly.

"Yeah, but… well, whatever. I'm sure she had reasons for bringing us here," he said quietly, biting his lip in indecision. He sniffed suddenly, grinning. "Hope you like water."

"Where are we?" she asked, fully prepared to be excited by the look and feel of another new world.

"Estylach," he said brightly, "approximately forty-five million miles from Epsilon Eridani B, which is about… ooh, ten or so light-years from your solar system," he said confidently. "Not too close to home, are we?" he teased cheerfully.

"As long as it doesn't have an NW12 postcode, it's fine," she grinned.

"Good!" He turned his head and looked at her. "It's hot, wet, and they have these really cool little rock-pools where you can –"

"We're going swimming?" she dared. "Excellent!"

"_You're_ going swimming," he said, looking back through the viewer.

"What? Oh – you mean to tell me you can't swim? You? You?" she teased. He straightened as the TARDIS smacked down, jarring them nearly off their feet.

"Of course I can swim," he said stiffly, putting his hands in his pockets. "I just choose not to."

"Spoilsport," she grumped, and he just looked at her. "Wait – I don't have anything to wear," she said.

"Not a problem," he beamed.

"Now hold on, mister, this place better not be a –"

"You can get stuff there," he said patiently and she smiled again.

"Oh. Well then, let's go," she said happily, turning to the doors. He watched her go, shook his head, and followed her silently.

She stopped at the door and took a deep breath.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to this," she said, looking up at him as he stopped next to her.

"What, the wood? Oh well, granted, it's a bit –"

"No, stupid – walking out onto a new world," she grinned.

"It's quite old, actually."

"Shut it and come on," she chuckled, opening the door.

It was humid, in the way that the would-be rain simply stuck to the air, refusing to fall but being very good at being ever-present.

"Grief! It's like walking into a butterfly garden!" she cried, waving air at her face.

"I did tell you it was hot and wet," he said cheerfully, moving her smoothly to one side and stepping out. He looked around, grinning and nodding to himself. He undid the buttons on his jacket, pulling his tie loose slightly. He turned to look at her, holding his elbow out. "Well?"

"Right then, let's go," she said bravely, stepping out and taking his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

The humidity seeped into her clothes in seconds, and she realised she should have changed her jeans for something lighter.

They walked along the new vista, a sheer rock-face to their left, an open flat-land to their right. The sun beat down relentlessly as they spotted the main road and headed for it.

"It's so hot," she said, slipping off her jacket and folding it over her arm. She could already feel the leather slimy against her fingers, and tutted.

He looked down at her and put his free hand across to her, taking the jacket. Her fingers only touched his for barely a moment but she was sure they felt like ice compared to hers. She looked up at the Doctor in his brown suit, showing no real sign of temperature awareness.

"Aren't you hot?" she asked curiously.

"Not really," he said amiably. "But then I have a lower body temperature than you do."

"Really?" she asked. "Like what?"

"Fifteen of your finest degrees in Celsius," he said cheerfully, swinging her jacket over his shoulder, hanging it from his finger.

"I don't believe you," she said, grinning open-mouthed at him.

"Fine. When we get back, you can shove one of those antiquated sticks in my mouth and I'll prove it," he said, nudging her shoulder with his. She snorted.

"Fine. As long as that thing's in your mouth you won't be able to speak," she teased.

"Cheeky!" he chuckled, pretending to be indignant.

They followed the road toward civilisation, and slowly the streets began to swell with the hundreds of citizens going about their daily business. The pavements were packed with beings, all looking similar in precisely the way that humans are not.

Martha slowly realised that they were actually walking in the road and it was _still_ full of people – and that there was no actual traffic.

"Don't they have cars?" she asked, confused.

"Private ones are out-lawed," he said simply. "They cause pollution. Pretty much everything that causes pollution is out-lawed here."

"Everything?" she asked.

"Everything," he confirmed, slipping her hand off his arm and pushing her forward, following her through the crowds.

"Sounds like Singapore," she muttered, stopping in front of a shop. "This looks good," she said, turning and taking her jacket from him, then pulling his sleeve toward the door with her to prevent them becoming separated in the throng.

They cut through the people to the open front doors of a shop. Swimsuits and accessories of every type adorned the inside of the windows, and Martha grinned. She turned to him but suddenly he shouted and whipped around, disappearing into the crowd.

"Doctor!" she called, jumping up and catching sight of his head heading away from her. She barrelled into the crowd and chased after him.

"You!" he shouted through the crowd. "Stop!"

Most of the beings in the street seemed to be slightly taller than him, making her job more difficult.

She pushed through the beings, ignoring the sounds of disgust as she followed desperately. She stopped and jumped to catch sight of the Doctor's head turning and moving off to the left.

She changed course and followed, and for a second the crowds parted. She caught a glimpse of the Gallifreyan heading for a side alley.

Martha broke through the crowd to see the Doctor grabbing the arm of a tall, slender being. She ran down the empty side street, heading for them.

"Hand it over!" he was demanding angrily. The being had shaken him off and was plastered against the wall, staring at the Doctor with wide, fearful eyes.

"Who are you?" he gasped, trying to push himself closer to the wall.

"Now!" the Doctor countered.

"I – I don't – I don't have anything!" he protested.

Martha stopped at the Doctor's side, putting her hands on her knees to help get some breath back.

"It's too humid for this," she breathed.

"I saw you!" the Doctor pressed. He put his hand out suddenly toward the being, his palm up. "Look, I don't care who you are or what you think you're doing, I just need that key back!"

The male shrank back quickly with a gasp, looking alarmed.

"He took your key?" Martha asked, surprised. "Why?" she added, looking at the being.

He looked at her quickly, then appeared to be a double-take and stared. He looked lost for a whole second, then looked back at the Doctor with trepidation.

"Who _are_ you two?" he asked quickly.

"He's the Doctor, I'm Martha," she said quickly, putting her hand out on the Doctor's arm. She pushed it down slowly, hearing him huff in disapproval and ignoring him admirably. "Look, really, we're just tourists. We need that key back."

"You can't – can't have it back, not now," he said quietly.

"Why not?" she asked, trying to be friendly. "What use is it to you, anyway?"

"It's old!" he hissed, looking up and down the alley quickly.

"Old?" the Doctor prompted, plainly hurt.

"I saw it – it's just what we need!" he hissed.

"Whatever – give it back!" he cried.

"I need it!"

"Well so do I, mate, and it's _mine_," he snapped.

"What do you need it for if it's so old?" Martha asked suddenly. The being looked at her.

"Where are you from?" he asked sourly.

"Not here. And neither is he," she said chucking a thumb at the Doctor. "Just tell us why you need it. We have more like it at home, we could just let you have one of those," she said.

"You don't understand – I was told, it had to be the key! I'm just following the instructions! We don't have time for this," the male said quickly.

Martha looked him up and down. Rumpled, used clothing covered a tall, long-limbed frame. His skin was a pale, pale white, almost blue, with white-yellow hair running down both sides of his head and into the collar of the t-shirt.

"Do you have a name?" she asked reasonably.

He just stared at her.

"Tell her your name," the Doctor said quietly. The alien looked at him, and for a second he seemed transfixed by the Gallifreyan. He swallowed quickly, then looked at Martha helplessly.

"Malaradarr'jin," he said slowly.

"Right then, er, Mal-ara-darr'jin," she said firmly. "Give us that key back and we promise we'll exchange it for similar material." She looked up at the Doctor, who appeared to be simply watching the exchange with a thoughtful look on his face. "Right?" she asked.

"Definitely," he said curiously. "We have plenty. What do you want with it?" he asked.

"I just do," Malaradarr'jin said belligerently. The Doctor huffed.

"Right, that's it," he said shortly, moving to grab for the alien's pockets.

Suddenly a siren rang out and Malaradarr'jin flinched against the wall. Martha looked to her right, down the alley, to see what looked to be an official vehicle with bright stripes down it parked.

"Police?" she hazarded.

"Aw no! Run!" Malaradarr'jin shouted, turning to go. The Doctor looked down the alley to the vehicle, then turned to see him making a break for it down the alley.

"You little –" he began, simply turning and giving chase.

Martha looked round at the vehicle. She saw the two sliding doors roll open and swallowed. She decided that following the two sprinting males down the street would be a very good idea.

She caught up with them at the end. And the other official vehicle parked watching them, the four aliens pointing small, black hand weapons at them.

"You two! Step forwards!" one alien shouted.

The Doctor started to walk forwards, his hands slightly up. "Look, I'm just visiting, and this cheeky little tea leaf took my door key. I just want it back," he said reasonably.

"Stop there, tourist! If that's what you are!' the other shouted.

"Fine," he grumped. "_You_ get my key back off him, then."

"I don't have it!" Malaradarr'jin shouted quickly. "He's lying!"

"You, stop there!" the alien officer shouted at Martha. She stood stock-still and put her hands up quickly. "All three of you, get in the car!"

"Who _are_ you?" she asked, confused.

"The Iloian City Police," he snapped back. "Now get in the car!"

She walked over slowly and looked at the vehicle.

"Even right out here, the police cars look the same," she sighed, ducking her head and getting in. They herded Malaradarr'jin in next, the Doctor folding into the bench seat next to him.

The officer walked round and rolled the door shut before going to his front door and getting in.

"I don't believe this," the Doctor grumbled. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?" he sighed, leaning forward and catching Martha's eye. She smiled, hoping it looked encouraging.

"Next time take better care of your pockets," she offered.

"Whatever they ask, don't answer them," Malaradarr'jin said quietly.

"Enough!" the police officer shouted, leaning back in his seat from in front. He rapped his pale knuckles against the glass between the front and back seats. Martha just looked at him.

"Alright, steady on," the Doctor snapped.

"That's the last I want to hear before we reach the station," the alien officer warned. The Doctor simply looked back at him, but Martha noticed the slightly elevated Gallifreyan chin. She bit her lip.

The officer persevered against the Doctor's stare, then gave up and turned round. The vehicle moved off and as they drove through the streets slowly, he picked up the radio.

"Ridi Three to the station," he said crisply.

"Station," came the immediate reply.

"One suspect answering terrorist's description detained, with two other suspected terrorists," he answered.

"Confirmed," the voice replied from the radio.

"Oi!" Martha cried indignantly. "We're not –"

"Quiet!" the officer called, then pressed the small button on the radio again. "Possibly armed," he added. "One of them registers as Sol Three. The other…" He paused, looking at some small display in the dashboard in front of him. "Not confirmed."

"I'm not from the Sol System," the Doctor said darkly.

"Don't be stupid!" the officer snapped, pressing buttons on the display. "How could you not be? Nothing can travel further than –"

"So your machine's lying then," the Doctor said neatly. The officer flicked his gaze at his partner, currently piloting the bulky vehicle rather delicately through the crowds of beings going about their daily business. He looked back at the display.

"Check the router on it," the driver offered.

"I have!" he protested.

"Trust me, I'm not going to show up on any of your scales," the Doctor said heavily.

"I've told you to be quiet!" the officer said, worried. He sat back, turning off the device. "It's busted," he said decisively. "Doesn't matter. You'll be catalogued back at the station."

"No I won't," the Doctor said to himself, looking out of the window. "No I won't."

The car drove on.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

The officers walked them into the station smartly, stopping and watching them expectantly, guns raised.

"Are we really that dangerous?" the Doctor asked, unimpressed.

"Perhaps," said a new voice.

They turned to find a tall, very lean looking male watching them. He too was tall and thin, very pale with a thin matting of white hair running down each side of his head and neck. He was wearing the same uniform as the two from the car, except he also had a red badge hanging from his left shoulder and a small red cap on the top of his bald head.

"Identify yourself."

"I'm the Doctor. This is Martha Jones," he said cautiously.

The new officer looked down at the desk in front of him, watching something embedded in the surface, between his white hands. "She's a Sol Three," he mused to himself. "Rare. But you…" He paused, unsure. He looked up slowly. "What are you?"

"Not from the Sol System, as I told your monkeys in the car," the Doctor said, annoyed. "When do I get my key back so I can go?"

"Your key?" the officer snorted. "It's a little late to be worried about your key, physician."

"I'm not the physician, she is," he said quickly. "And this is starting to try my patience. Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

"I am," he said loudly. "Commissioner Barrak'jin, at your service," he said sarcastically.

"So what do we have to do to get that key back so we can leave?" he demanded.

"Leave? You're not leaving, physician. None of you are. Don't tell me you didn't know your friend Malaradarr'jin there is wanted for terrorism?" Commissioner Barrak'jin said snidely.

"One: he's not my friend, and two: do I _look_ like a terrorist?" the Doctor demanded.

"I'm not quite sure _what_ you look like," Barrak'jin said slowly, musing. "If you're not from the Sol System, which I'm not prepared to believe, then how did you come here? Do you know how long it would take to reach our system, if you're really from somewhere outside?"

"Better than you do," the Doctor replied tartly. "So how does this legal system work, eh? What do we get; lawyers, barristers, solicitors, nestors, what?" he demanded.

"You get imprisoned. Then you tell us everything about the Oomahnhi terrorist group, and then we sentence you to death," he said pleasantly.

"What?" Martha demanded angrily. "You can't do that! You've no proof!"

"Exactly," Barrak'jin said with a broad smile. "You can't prove you're not involved."

"And you can't prove we _are_," the Doctor put in quickly. "Ergo: you can't keep us." He stared at the commissioner, who just looked back at him.

It was silent a long moment, and then Barrak'jin shifted and looked away abruptly.

"I don't know how they do things where you come from, physician, but on Estylach you do not have the right to innocence in the absence of evidence," he said, recovering his dignity. He looked over at Martha slowly, thinking.

"Commissioner Barrak'jin," Malaradarr'jin said suddenly. Everyone turned and looked at him.

"Speak," he said haughtily.

"These two are telling the truth. I picked his pocket," he said quietly, looking at his feet. "I was looking for money."

"Then why did you take the key?" Martha demanded.

"I never saw a key," he said bravely. The Doctor pouted suddenly, letting his hands slide into his pockets. He said nothing, and Martha looked at him.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. He looked at her, and she realised great cogs were turning somewhere behind his eyes. He turned and looked at Barrak'jin.

"You know we don't belong here," he said darkly. "You know you get scant few Sol Threes, and you've certainly never had anyone like me here before. _Well_, not for a good few hundred years. Yes?" he asked slowly.

"I know you register as only _close_ to Sol Three but there's a little problem with the –"

"Don't be daft," the Doctor said shortly. "You know I'm not a Sol Three."

"I do not," Barrak'jin shot back, a little hotly. "Such a thing would be impossible, and I won't have people lying to me!"

The Doctor actually laughed suddenly.

"You think I'm lying to you?" he asked easily, his eyebrows disappearing up under his fringe. "Fine. Think what you want, I _know_."

"Catalogue them, add them to the cells!" Barrak'jin called out angrily to the guards.

"Really?" the Doctor breathed darkly.

Barrak'jin turned and looked at him angrily. But as Martha watched, something about the Doctor's stare unnerved the tall commissioner and he even stepped back one slightly. The Doctor simply raised his chin and the commissioner took another step back, turning away quickly and waving to the two guards at the far door.

They walked over and the tallest one grabbed the Doctor's arm firmly. He simply looked up and shook him off indignantly. The guard moved to take him again, but he stared at him. The guard hesitated, then looked over at the commissioner.

"Go!" he shouted impatiently.

The guard behind grabbed Martha and Malaradarr'jin's arms firmly, pulling them along. They were marched out of the lobby and down a long corridor.

Martha noticed the guard hung back from the Doctor slightly, simply directing him rather than touch him again. She filed it away, hoping she could use it some time in the future.

After some minutes they were stopped at the entrance to another corridor. This one was well-lit, spacious and even quite pleasant-looking. Apart from the large electronic lock on the outside of the metal door.

The Doctor simply stopped and reached into his inside jacket pocket, taking out his glasses and slipping them on.

The guard pushed past him and raised his hand, covering it with his other as he tapped some numbers smartly. The Doctor wasn't even watching; something else on the opposite edge of the door had caught his attention.

The door swung open and the guard cleared his throat.

"Inside," he said curtly. The Doctor took off his glasses and pushed them back inside his jacket, walking in slowly and looking around.

The second guard pulled Martha and Malaradarr'jin along, following and stopping outside a large metal door. It was a good six feet wide, with several large hinges on the side. There was no lock on the other.

The guard simply placed his hand on the doorframe. The door swung inside. He stepped back and waved the Doctor in. He didn't even spare him a glance, just walked in and started looking around, hands still in his pockets, the picture of calm.

The second guard flung Martha and Malaradarr'jin in through the door, turning and walking quickly away. The first backed out, closed the door, and crossed to the far side of the corridor. He sat on the low stone bench slowly and simply waited.

Martha immediately turned to stare at Malaradarr'jin.

"You idiot!" she accused angrily. "Why did you have to take the key? What do you want it for?" she demanded.

"For the metal content," the Doctor said, apparently to himself. "Metal is very rare on this world, especially _that_ metal. Isn't it?" he said, turning and looking at Malaradarr'jin suddenly.

"I –"

"_Isn't it_?" the Doctor shouted suddenly. Martha jumped, unaccustomed to the sound of him shouting for no apparent reason.

"Yes."

"And you wanted it because?" he demanded.

"We need it."

"What are you making?" he asked. Martha stepped back one, folding her arms and looking over at the Doctor. "_What is it_?" he shouted, making Martha's skin prickle.

"A – a – oh, you wouldn't believe us, no-one ever does… Look, we need it to… to start the… Look, if I tell you –"

"If you tell me I'll be a damned-sight more sympathetic than I am now!" he shouted. "You're part of this terrorist group, aren't you? Just who are you supposed to be terrorising, and why?" he demanded.

"Look… It's complicated," he said, torn. The Doctor walked up to him, covering the distance with surprising speed. Malaradarr'jin stepped backwards hurriedly, plastering himself against the wall desperately.

"Tell me," he said heavily. Malaradarr'jin tried to meet his eyes, then let his gaze drop.

"Alright," he whispered. The Doctor continued to stare at him, and Malaradarr'jin looked up at him quickly. "Alright! Just – don't look at me like that!" he pleaded.

The Doctor took a step backward slowly, letting his gaze wander over to Martha. She walked over quietly.

"Malaradarr'jin," she said gently. "We were just passing through. We didn't expect this. And we just want to go home," she added quietly.

"I know," he said wretchedly. "So do I."

Martha sighed and let go of the last vestiges of any anger. She looked at him with much more understanding.

"And where is home?" the Doctor asked sternly.

"I don't know. But I – _we_ – know it's not here," he said slowly.

"Go on," Martha said gently, putting her hand out on his arm. She felt him shaking slightly, and realised he wasn't just staring over her head, he was eyeing the Doctor. She looked back at the Gallifreyan. "Doctor," she said carefully. "I can do this."

He shifted his gaze to her, but she didn't see anything malicious or unsettling in it. He nodded once, then turned away slowly, walking round the cell wall slowly, studying it.

Martha turned back to Malaradarr'jin.

"Go on," she said gently. But the alien looked at her, slightly alarmed.

"Don't you know what he is? Doesn't he scare you?" he dared. She smiled.

"I think sometimes I scare _him_," she said with a daring smile. "Come on, what is this all about?" she asked.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

Malaradarr'jin regarded Martha for a long moment. He looked over at the Doctor, took a deep breath, and then looked back at her with some relief.

"You have to understand," he said slowly, carefully. "If you so much as repeat these stories, you get arrested for being a terrorist," he said quietly. "And that's _all_ we did – they call us terrorists, but we've never even seen a real weapon."

She smiled slightly.

"Go on."

"Well, the stories… Me and my brother, we believed them, always did. Then… we decided to do something about it. One day he came to me and told me this amazing story about…" He stopped short, eyeing the Doctor suddenly. He didn't appear to be listening at all, but rather wandering around the cell, intent on the wall.

"Anyway, we started… We built a ship," he said bravely.

"You? And your brother? Together?" she asked, lost. "Wow."

"No! I mean, well, not just us. It turned out there were more people who believed than we thought. Some people even had whole theories about…" He stopped suddenly, looking at the Doctor. He was still oblivious. "And then… My brother suddenly knew what to do. He designed the ship, said he was told where to find the engines, everything," he said quietly. "Then we got a sympathetic ear in the government, they let us have funds," he said quickly. "We built the ship, had it near completion. Then there was a change in government, and all our secret friends in high places disappeared. Barrak'jin was the officer who opposed this ship scheme the most – he'd been trying to get it terminated, and then he was made chief of police, some say to get him out of the way. All it did was let him arrest anyone he wanted who so much as said the words 'there are real aliens' out loud," he said miserably.

"But why go to all this trouble?" she asked. "Why build a ship at all?"

"There are… old, old stories. Ones that say we're not from Estylach at all – and my brother is adamant that he's met an alien and not like _you_," he said. "Oh, I didn't mean – well, not a Sol Three, I mean," he said quickly, apologetically.

"Forget it," she said warmly, "I've been called a lot worse."

"Well… some say we're from right inside the Sol System. Some say… it could be Sol Three," he dared.

"Earth?" the Doctor put in, from across the room. Martha turned to look at him but he was busy putting a hand out to the stone wall, feeling it slowly.

"And?" she asked Malaradarr'jin.

"We're going to leave, going to try and reach it."

"Then I hope you live a long time," the Doctor mumbled, apparently to himself.

"We have stasis chambers," Malaradarr'jin said bravely.

"Ah. Now I _do_ love a good stasis chamber," the Doctor replied, still ostensibly caught up in the surface of the wall.

"So who are you meant to be terrorising?" she asked gently.

"So, hold on a minute," the Doctor said quickly, turning suddenly from the wall and looking at Malaradarr'jin. "You've been spreading these rumours for the last few years as you built the ship. More and more people have helped you, and now you're at the stage you feel it's time to try her out. Only times and governments change, and now everyone's out to stop you? Because, as far as I can gather, the rulers of Estylach think you're all, at best, crackpots, and at worst, terrorists of tradition," he said plainly.

"Yes," Malaradarr'jin said, gazing at the Doctor. Martha watched him, saw the fear slip away and be replaced by something new, something that made Malaradarr'jin smile. "I never thought… Oh! You're one of Them, aren't you?" he said quietly.

"Meaning?" the Doctor asked, almost amused. Malaradarr'jin smiled, watching the Doctor.

"I _knew_ you were one of Them!" he whispered. "When I first saw you… and that blue box that looked like… I _knew_ you had to one of Them," he breathed. He cleared his throat. "But… you're not right, not the same. There's something just wrong about you."

"Is that what scares you?" Martha said gently, and he looked down at her quickly.

"It's… wrong," Malaradarr'jin said slowly, then looked back at the Doctor. "_You're_ wrong."

The Doctor smiled slightly, then shook his head.

"And you want to travel to far-off stars," he said ruefully, rubbing behind his ear smartly. "What if I told you that you're going to find you're _not_ from Estylach? You're going to find all sorts of strange things off this rock. Are you sure you want to leave?" he asked directly, raising his eyebrows at Malaradarr'jin. He stared back at him, transfixed.

"Please, tell me the name of your home," he said quietly.

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"Because… Because if I'm wrong, I'll give your key back. And stop dreaming of other planets outside Sol's pull. I know they exist, but I can't believe they harbour real aliens." He paused, thinking. "Even when my brother talks about… He says someone told him where to find engines and ship ideas. He says all he's done is copy someone else's designs. But I think he's done this all by himself."

"Really?" the Doctor said lightly, nodding helpfully, but his eyes were round with innocent disbelief. Malaradarr'jin sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"Tell me. Then I'll know I'm wrong for believing all these years, that you're _not_ one of Them, that They never existed, and I can give all this up."

The Doctor smiled to himself.

"Ok, I'm a Sol Three," he said kindly, shrugging. Malaradarr'jin swallowed, then nodded slightly.

"I was right. You _are_ one of Them," he said to himself. Martha looked at him.

"Who's 'Them'? What do you mean?" she asked. Malaradarr'jin looked at her, then back at the Doctor.

"The ones who… They had the…" He took a deep breath. "Tell me where you're from."

"I'll do better than that," he allowed, pulling at his ear as he studied his feet suddenly, watching his toes wiggle in his off-white, battered Converse. "I'll tell you that you lot were originally from Epsilon Eridani B."

Malaradarr'jin gaped, then collected himself.

"Then about, ooh… a _thousand_ years ago, you lot were relocated, due to your home planet being made unliveable by the atmospheric pressure imbalances and all kinds of icky stuff caused by pollution." The Doctor looked up, catching Malaradarr'jin's hopeful stare. "You set up home here, and everything was hunky-dory," he said. He put a hand up to the back of his head, rubbing it as he walked away slowly.

"And… how do you know that?" he demanded.

"Because your lot asked for help from _my_ lot," he said, still walking slowly. "We helped you move. Facilitated everything. Bit like removal men," he said cheerfully, looking up and smiling a brilliant, radiant show of amusement. "Even helped you set up a few rules."

"Like out-lawing pollution," Martha said, the penny dropping. The Doctor looked at her, inclining his head graciously.

"And your home?" Malaradarr'jin dared. "I need to know the name of your home."

"Constellation of Kasterborous," he said easily, greatly amused.

"Everything is true," he whispered. "It's all true… People have to know… My brother, the others…"

Martha looked from one to the other. "Look, I think –"

"Right!" shouted a voice, and they looked over to the door, seeing the guards' heads though the barred window. "Malaradarr'jin! You're coming with us!"

The door swung inwards and two guards stepped in neatly. Malaradarr'jin turned and drew his hand from his pocket quickly, tossing the key at the Doctor. He caught it neatly and pocketed it much more smoothly than the guards could notice.

"Where are you taking him?" Martha demanded, but the guards simply pushed her out of the way.

"Brain scans," one of them said.

"Brain scans?" the Doctor prompted. "What kind of brain scans? What are you using?" he demanded. The guard ignored him, but he stepped in his way and fixed his full stare on him. The guard paused. "Tell me," he said heavily.

"Thermo-routing information collectors," he said abruptly, then clamped his mouth shut as his partner slapped his arm heavily.

"What! You're still using those –"

"Quiet!" the other guard called, gesturing his partner with Malaradarr'jin out of the cell quickly. He walked out and swung the door shut hurriedly.

"But they can be lethal!" the Doctor shouted at the door.

No-one replied. Martha turned and looked at the Doctor quickly.

"Doctor?" she prompted.

"I know," he said testily. "Get us out, get _him_ out, get this key where he needs it, free a ship from its moorings, get them into the upper atmosphere, get _us_ back to the TARDIS, and we're all home free!"


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

Martha put her back against the wall, sliding down it and looking up slowly.

"At least this place is clean. And cool – they must have really sorted air-con down here, there's not a bit of humidity," she said aloud. "It's very… _pleasant_," she added uneasily.

"And not entirely what it appears to be," the Doctor muttered to himself.

"What?" she asked, not having heard.

"If you had a ship, being built in secret, where would you hide it?" he hissed thoughtfully to himself, putting his hands in his pockets and wandering to the centre of the room. "Where _could_ you hide it?"

"I don't know," she said wearily. "Do you think… do you think Malaradarr'jin will be alright?" she dared.

"I think they won't harm him if they believe he knows something useful," he said easily, looking at her slowly. "I think they don't want to admit that everything they've told the population for the last few hundred years has been a lie."

"Doctor…" She paused, biting her lip. "Doctor, did you really help his people move here?"

"_Nah_," he said dismissively, pulling at his ear as he looked at her. "I might be old, but I'm not _that_ old," he smiled.

"No, I meant… your people. The other Time Lords. Did they do it?"

He turned away from her, walking round the cell slowly.

"Yes."

"And… and they left this place alone, all this time? Never checked on them, never looked in on them?" she said gently. "Just left them to it?"

"We were told to," he said shortly. "We were asked to avert a planetary disaster. We did," he said clearly. "Then we were told in no uncertain terms that they no longer wanted our help. We left," he said tersely.

"So this is what happens when people follow your instructions to the letter," she mused.

"Are you saying this is my fault?"

"Of course not," she said irritably, "don't be stupid. I just meant…" She huffed. "I just meant that… when you meddle, even for the best of reasons, things can go wrong."

"As ably demonstrated by me letting the TARDIS decide to bring us here," he huffed. "I still don't know why she picked _here_," he added to himself. Martha reserved judgement, choosing instead to look at her feet.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

"Well, I think –"

The door swung open and Commissioner Barrak'jin entered quickly.

"Malaradarr'jin has failed to provide us with any information," he said smartly.

"Has he now," the Doctor sneered evilly, walking directly up to the alien. He fixed his full attention on him. Barrak'jin resisted the urge to stand back. "You know, for a prominent government official you don't _lie_ very well," he accused.

"How dare –"

"Easily!" the Doctor shouted into his face. "He told you the whole story before you even slapped that thing on his head, am I right?" he demanded angrily. "But you had to go ahead and ram it on anyway, didn't you? And his scans revealed he had already told you what he believed to be the truth!"

Barrak'jin backed up one and then recovered himself.

"He is a seriously disturbed individual," he said quickly. "He needs help. How can anyone live in our society if they believe we come from another world?"

"Then tell me this," the Time Lord spat suddenly, anger turning his face a decidedly worrying shade of red, "if you're from this place, this Estylach, why is your body clock set to twenty-eight hours, when the days here are only twenty-five hours long?"

Barrak'jin opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"And why are there no remains or archaeological digs older than nine hundred-odd years old?" he demanded. "You and I both know the boy's right, Barrak'jin!" he shouted.

"You are nothing more than a –"

"Than a _Gallifreyan_!" he raged.

Barrak'jin's mouth hung loose. He took a step back, shocked. The Doctor didn't even pause.

"A Gallifreyan that came from a long line of Gallifreyans, who answered _your_ call for help and then moved _you_ to this new world to save you from extinction! And what do you turn this bright, shiny new world into? A plastic cage of fear, and prejudice, and racism!" he shouted.

"You're – You can't be! It's nonsense – you're talking nonsense!" Barrak'jin stammered desperately.

"Am I?" he demanded, walking closer, but his voice had lost its volume. Now it was cold, hard, heavy with accusation. "Am I? So why is there that warning voice in your head telling you to fear me, to step back, to get away from the _alien_ from far across the stars, far away from your petty little Sol System and its pollution problems? The one from so far away, the one that looks and feels and talks like the very thing you thought you'd forgotten? It's there, isn't it? It's there, still there, still hanging around – '_the arrogant Gallifreyans that think they know everything_'," he breathed darkly. "Why are you trying not to run from _a Time Lord_?"

Barrak'jin leapt back and rapped on the door quickly, disappearing round it without waiting for it to open properly.

The Doctor simply stepped back one, blinking and looking a little unsure himself. Martha watched the door close, then looked at him.

"Doctor," she said quietly. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts and straightening before looking at her.

"Martha Jones," he said, sounding almost relieved.

"Seriously, you shouldn't go off on one like that."

"Did I scare you too?" he asked bravely, and she had expected him to find it all vaguely amusing. But she was surprised by the expression on his face. He looked for all the world as if he'd been chasing Bigfoot all this time, only to find out it was in fact himself.

"No, I just…" She thought about it. "Sometimes it'd be nice if…" She huffed at herself. "Well other people just take a swing at them and knock some sense into them. You do what my old Year Five English teacher used to do – make people think enough to shame them_selves_," she said.

"Ah. Sorry. I'm a talker, not a fighter," he said, and she noticed some of his old cheer had returned. He looked around grimly enough though. "Well, at least we know he's alright. Now all we have to do is get out of here."

The door swung open and Barrak'jin re-appeared with two rather large, burly guards.

"Oh, not you again," the Doctor heaved, hands in his pockets comfortably. "I think we've established you're of no further use to me. Send me someone else," he said dismissively, lifting a hand from a pocket and making shooing gestures at him lazily.

"Where are the rest of the terrorists hiding? How are they planning to take the ship back?" he demanded, not looking at the Doctor.

"Take it back?" he asked quickly, jumping on the taller alien's words. Martha looked at him, noticing the mischievous spark in his eyes rekindling with alacrity. "Why would they want to do that? Surely you have the best interests of this planet at heart?"

"One of you will tell me," he said confidently. "And it's going to be – _you_," he said suddenly, pointing at Martha.

"What?" she asked, shocked. "You honestly think I know _any_thing?" she demanded. "I just got here!"

"Wait!" the Doctor said quickly.

"Bring her!" Barrak'jin said, gesturing to one of the guards.

The Doctor made a grab for her arm, but the other guard simply grabbed him by the front of his jacket securely. He was thrown against the wall, the guard leaning his whole weight on him.

The other simply grabbed her under the arms, picking her clean off the floor.

"No! She's from Earth – Sol Three! She can't take your brain scans!" he shouted desperately. "Listen to me! She knows _nothing_!" he raged angrily. "Take me, I can tell you everything!"

Barrak'jin simply turned away, walking out of the cell. The guard turned to go, clutching Martha to him in his vice-like grip.

"Doctor?" she said quickly.

The guard let the Doctor go and turned to follow the others. He rushed up after him but the guard turned and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing effortlessly.

"Don't," he said warningly. The Time Lord grabbed at his captor's wrist, trying to peel him off. In vain.

"She will come with us and she will tell us everything we wish to know," Barrak'jin said pleasantly from just outside the door. The two guards whisked Martha out of the cell, leaving the Doctor to collapse on his knees, gasping for breath.

He staggered to his feet and grabbed at the bars over the window. He missed and lurched forward. He put his hands to the inside of the door, sliding them up and grabbing onto the bars. He pulled himself upright quickly.

"You! Listen to me – you want to know the list of terrorist names? Their plans? The location of a million secret rebel bases? Ask me! Ask _me_!" he screamed, yanking on the bars desperately.

"Doctor – don't!" she called, even as the guard swung her round. "Just tell Mum it wasn't your fault! It wasn't! It _wasn't_!" she shouted, her voice hoarse.

"Martha!" he shouted angrily, still heaving on the bars as if they could suddenly give. "_Martha_!"

"I'm sorry!" she shouted, as the large guard dragged her toward the exit. "Remember me!"

"_Martha_!" he screamed hoarsely, pulling against the bars with all his strength.

They didn't give.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

He sat motionless against the wall of the cell, ostensibly staring at the opposite one. His eyes had glazed over a long time ago.

He heard boots and looked over, scrambling to his feet quickly and rushing to the bars in the door. The two guards were back, Martha slung casually over one shoulder.

"What have you done to her?" he shouted, grabbing at the bars futilely.

"You will be quiet," the guard intoned, standing back while the other opened it and made a grab for the Time Lord. He held him firmly by the throat. The other guard shuffled in and deposited Martha on the cold stone floor.

The Doctor spluttered and struggled, but the guard simply waited for his partner to leave the cell. He released his captive, pushing him back roughly.

He had closed the door again before the Doctor had had a chance to stand properly.

"You will both die tomorrow," the guard announced. "Any last words?"

The Doctor stopped massaging his throat and drew himself up slowly. He looked at the guard with such malevolence, his dark eyes shining with such evil, evil promise.

"If you've hurt her, there's nowhere you could go, no time when you could hide," he breathed.

The guard simply nodded, then turned away. The two of them disappeared down the brightly-lit, pleasant corridor together.

The Doctor didn't see. He had turned and dashed over to Martha.

He knelt down swiftly, putting two fingers to her neck and finding her pulse. He closed his eyes in relief, finding it strong. He put a hand to her hair, smoothing it back from her eyes gently.

"Oh, Martha Jones, what have they done to you?" he whispered, anguished.

He studied her for a long moment, then put his hands under her shoulders, lifting her off the floor slowly to sit. He had to put a hand behind her neck for support.

Her eyes fluttered but didn't open.

"Hurts," she muttered, and he stared, shocked.

"Martha?" he demanded loudly. "Martha Jones, can you hear me?"

"Hurts," she mumbled, her face looking troubled.

He said nothing. His face teetered between anger and heart-break.

He sat slowly against the wall, lifting her to sit between his raised knees. Her shoulder fell into his chest and he put his arms round her firmly, putting a cool hand to her face and holding her against him protectively.

"Hurts," she muttered, troubled.

"Sssh," he soothed quietly, leaning his head against the top of hers gently. "Sssh. I'll find a way out of this. Get you back to the TARDIS. Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright," he breathed softly, but his eyes churned with anger.

"Not his… his fault…" she sighed.

"Martha Jones," he heaved wretchedly, not knowing what else to say.

He sat. He held onto her.

He plotted.

-------------------------------------------------

She heard a rushing, roaring sound. Her head felt like it was full of sand, and she tried to shake it clear.

It didn't move. The sound got louder, and then seemed to move away from her. She was aware of something gently pressing her skin, a strange, dull noise buzzing at her ears.

She lifted a hand to brush it away, unsure whether her hand moved or not. It didn't feel like it.

The buzzing became more distinct. It repeated at odd intervals, and slowly she realised it wasn't a buzz at all, but someone's voice.

"Martha Jones."

She noticed the black void suddenly fill with bright colour and light, and slapped a hand over her eyes.

"It's too bright, I know. Can you hear me?"

She peeled one finger away to look out slowly, letting her eyes try to acclimatise themselves. She blinked and squinted.

"It's me."

She heard the voice and something about the familiarity of it made her relax, as if everything would be taken care of.

"Dah," she blurted at the sudden coherent image of a face, wondering why her tongue was working against her.

"Martha, listen. You're going to be alright. We're leaving for the TARDIS, and once you've had a rest you'll be back to normal. Do you understand?" he asked plainly.

"Dah loo tied," she slurred. He huffed.

"Yeah well, it's been a strange, busy day," he said. She felt herself moving and could only grab onto what she assumed was another person.

The Doctor leaned her against the wall and got up, then pulled out his screwdriver quickly. He turned around in a complete circle slowly, flicking out his glasses and pushing them on.

Martha slumped against the wall, now convinced it was not actually a real person.

"Wha yu do – do win?" she managed.

"Just shush," he said loudly. She poked her tongue out at him, trying to straighten her legs out. She turned herself and leaned back, putting her arms back flat against the wall and clutching at it.

"Head," she managed.

"I know, just let it go," he said irritably. "The worst thing you can do is try and go against a bad head like yours right now." He turned slowly in another circle, stopping just to the left of the door. "A-ha," he clucked to himself, walking over and putting his hands to the wall.

Martha looked up at him, wondering if the psychedelic colour of his suit had always been so. She let her eyes close for a moment, thinking perhaps a small nap was in order.

The Doctor ran the screwdriver up and down the wall repeatedly, finding the exact spot and then reversing it.

"I just hope you're reading this correctly," he breathed. "Still, if it isn't, you've only got yourself to blame," he accused the instrument. Then he yanked his arm back and rammed the screwdriver end-first into a seam of the brickwork.

It chipped easily. He grinned, raising the screwdriver again and hammering at the seam harder.

"Gotcha!" he cried vindictively, standing back quickly as a stream of mortar round a single brick tumbled out toward him. He pushed the screwdriver into his trouser pocket and put his long, thin fingers to the brick, trying to walk it out of the housing.

It took some minutes. He dropped the six-inch brick to his left side, crouching slightly to look in the gap. It was dark. He fished out his screwdriver and flicked it on, pushing it further and further into the black.

"You Eridanians," he breathed, shaking his head with a broad smile, "you don't change, do you?"

His grin died suddenly as his gaze caught the end of the screwdriver. He tutted.

"Neither do your bricks. Ah well," he heaved, eyeing the chunks and dents in the handle.

The door beeped suddenly and he snapped off the screwdriver, leaping back and crouching down to look at Martha.

"Martha Jones?" he asked quickly. "Ah. Out for the count. Still, probably better that way," he sniffed, simply putting his hands under her arms and hauling her to her feet. He bent and scooped one arm under her knees, lifting her off the floor just as the door swung open obediently. "You know," he said with fake cheer, stepping out of the door with a decidedly heavy tread, "it's days like this when I'm extremely glad you're _not_ the Brigadier."

He turned to his left and stopped, looking at her quickly. He hesitated, then looked up at the corridor.

"_Allons_-y," he said to himself, but he could already feel the amusement and any good cheer slipping off him like rain.


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

Martha opened her eyes and looked around. She moaned, lifting a hand and rubbing at her eyes, then her head.

She found herself looking up at the ceiling of the TARDIS. She sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. Her head pounded and she clutched at it, hoping it wouldn't explode.

After some minutes she felt she could open her eyes without damaging her brain. She looked around slowly, finding her adopted bedroom and blinking at it, confused.

She pushed herself off the bed, stumbling on something and looking down, blinking at her shoes in a pile.

_I don't remember taking those off. Actually, I don't remember coming back here… What was I doing?_

She walked to the antique dresser and sat heavily, looking at herself in the mirror for a long few minutes.

"What _do_ you look like?" she asked herself, sitting forward and peering at her face. "And what were you doing before… before you woke up here?" she asked herself.

She turned in her chair, looking round the room slowly. She was still dressed, only her shoes off and dumped at the side of her bed. She turned back and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Well I'm still dressed, so…" She sighed, pulling the band and clips from her hair slowly, dropping them to the dresser surface and sitting back. She frowned, scrubbing at her face with both hands and feeling her head pound like never before.

She let her hands drop and looked over her array of bottles and personal effects. She spotted her bottle of make-up remover with cleanser (from Arraldee Six, if she remembered rightly) and froze. She looked at the bright orange Post-It note stuck to it. She peeled it off and read it.

'_Martha Jones, you are so predictable. Do us a favour, make us a cup of tea, there's a good girl.'_

She read it again, then just set it down on the dresser's glass top. She looked up into the mirror, then smiled slightly. She looked back down at the note, and the decidedly prescription-esque handwriting, and shook her head, grinning.

"If you think I'm doing anything before I've had a shower, mister, you are seriously mistaken," she said archly, getting up and crossing to the door.

She stopped as she found another Post-It note on the inside of the door, this time fluorescent green.

'_Tea first! Showers can wait. You'll find painkillers by the teapot. Don't make me disconnect your phone for being a troublesome frequent flyer.'_ Next to the last words he had scrawled an almost-round smiley face, winking.

She grinned, peeling it off and stuffing it in her pocket.

"Fair enough then," she said to herself, "tea first. I should have known, he just looks out for everyone, doesn't he?"

-------------------------------------------------

He found it surprisingly easy to let himself in. A quick screwdrivering of the door lock on the back of the building had confirmed that everything was set to the same frequency as the cells.

He hurried down the clean, brightly-lit corridor, stopping and turning to his left as something caught his eye.

It was a large flat space in the wall. Nothing to attract attention. Nothing to make you even look at it.

"Ah, now see, your _first_ mistake was pretending you didn't want people to look at you," he said craftily, walking up to the wall and doing just that, very carefully. "Your second was in being particularly unremarkable. If it were me, I'd have put something here. A crack, or a blister, or just… _some_thing," he breathed thoughtfully. "But you're just too flat, too smooth… too _unremarkable_ to go unnoticed."

He put his hand to it slowly, smoothing his fingertips over it. "Ah." He nodded briskly and stepped back, raising the screwdriver and moving it slowly down the wall.

A faint blue trace of a large rectangle, taller than himself, lit up. He tutted, shaking his head and acknowledging his disappointment.

A few moments of expert screwdrivership and imaginative tinkering revealed the door. It did not, however, reveal the opening mechanism.

"Eridanians," he muttered rather unkindly, flicking off the screwdriver and putting his fingers to the wall. He smoothed them around slowly, thinking. "Now, if you've not been off the planet in a thousand years, and you've binned or banned everything pertaining to aliens such as myself ever helping you or even existing, then how did you manage to build this door?" he asked himself mildly.

"I'd love to tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," said a voice from behind him. He let his hands drop from the wall and into his pockets, turning slowly.

"Commissioner Barrak'jin," he said cheerfully, eyeing the taller alien. "What a nice surprise. Be a good sport, get this open."

Barrak'jin gave him a long, withering look.

"It's curious," he said quietly, looking up and down the corridor. He lifted a small, black handgun from behind his back. "When those two started on that ship and the entire planet seemed to think it could only be a good thing, I realised two things. One, that someone had to have given that older brother some help – and _they_ would have had to have been aliens from outside the Sol System, and two, the potential of that ship is enormous," he said in measured tones, aiming the handgun at him.

"And by 'enormous' you mean 'to be exploited by yourself'," the Doctor nodded thoughtfully.

"There have to be perks in a job such as mine," the commissioner conceded.

"Ah. So you're not interested in the original use for the ship, are you?" he asked, sniffing to himself. "That's a shame."

"Why do you say that?" he asked mildly, but the Doctor saw through him.

"Because they're about to set off in that ship and find big things," he said quietly. "You're not after big things though, are you?" he asked quietly, eyeing the police chief. "What _are_ you after? Why do _you_ want the ship built?"

"I don't see any point in telling you."

"_Ah,_" he said knowingly. He walked to his left slowly, looking up and down the corridor rather deliberately. "No-one else here, then? You going to shoot me and carry on as normal?"

"That's the plan," Barrak'jin said. "Where's the girl?"

"Girl?" he prompted, confused.

"The dark Sol Three you came with. She gave us so much sport under the brain scanner. Where is she?"

The amusement drained from his face in an instant. "Oh _her_," he snapped angrily. "Had to get rid of her."

"Really," he stated flatly. "Why?"

"She pointed a gun at me," he said forcefully.

"You're a funny man," Barrak'jin accused, somewhat unamused.

"You're in trouble," the Doctor countered heavily.

"Is that so?"

"Very so."

"You're going to over-power me and then somehow open the door?"

"Not at all," he said stiffly. "I wouldn't put myself out over you."

"Should I be insulted?"

"Oh most definitely," he confirmed with a nod, wandering back round and leaning against the wall, pinning him with a gaze that could have cut new sheen on a diamond. "And you should be thinking about what happens after you shoot me. Malaradarr'jin and his friends will no doubt carry on with their little ship experiments, and then –"

"He's dead," he said succinctly. The Doctor paused.

"Dead."

"Yes. Perhaps we used a little too much energy to read his memories and intentions. He didn't react too well to the power level," he grinned. "Worked out rather well – couldn't have that loon running around spreading panic."

The Doctor's face hardly changed. But suddenly it was an observatory forecast of all kinds of excretory nastiness moving swiftly towards a rather over-sized moving fan.

It was quiet for a long, painful moment. Then Barrak'jin lifted the gun slightly, taking aim at the Gallifreyan's chest.

"You know, I should warn you…" the Doctor began quickly. But he hesitated, and Barrak'jin laughed.

"Warn me? Is this where you try to dissuade me from shooting you?" he scoffed.

The Doctor opened his mouth, then sighed and shook his head forlornly. He looked at Barrak'jin with a decidedly piercing, damning look. "Nah, you won't trust anything I say anyway. Forget it."

"Thank you, I shall," he said, greatly amused. "Now then –"

"So where _is_ the ship?" the Doctor asked quickly. "You were planning to steal Malaradarr'jin's out from under him, right?"

"Perceptive, aren't you?" he said, his face dropping in alarm.

"Time Lord," he sighed.

"Not any more," he snapped, and fired.


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

Everything happened within the blink of an eye.

The energy sparked from the weapon toward the Doctor. Barrak'jin watched in extreme satisfaction.

A small, almost undetectable sound buzzed and fizzed.

The energy beam veered from its target of the Gallifreyan's chest. Instead it headed for the right-hand pocket of his trousers.

The Doctor danced nimbly to one side, avoiding the beam by an inch. Then he simply threw himself to the ground.

The beam smacked into the wall. It fizzed and suddenly blue energy and great thunderings of power arced and sizzled from the secret door for a mere second.

The consequent expulsion of combative energies hurled twisted metal and stone out into the corridor. The sound was deafening, the ripples of energy and rubble blowing everything against the walls of the corridor.

And then it was over. Small plinks and patterings echoed round the corridor as the rubble settled. Dust, chippings and a vile smell filled the air for silent minutes.

The Doctor removed his hands from his head, finding himself face down on the once-clean floor. He shook his head of dust, then lifted himself up on his elbows and looked around.

"And that's why you shouldn't let off buleenen handguns near a sealed kadranni security door," he sighed. He coughed on the dust, raising his hands and scrubbing at his hair to send a huge wave of dust and stone chips to the floor.

He coughed again and wiped at his eyes, shaking his legs free of the smattering of rubble that had defied the laws of physics and not flown against the opposite wall. He got to his knees and then his feet steadily. He looked around quickly, lifting his feet and climbing over rubble and unsteady stone.

He slipped a few times, but made it to the hole where the door had been. He leaned against the wall, wiping his eyes again and looking round.

"Barrak'jin?" he called, then coughed. "Commissioner?"

He searched the rubble through the settling dust, something black catching his eye. He scrabbled back over the rocks and found a small square of clothing ripped open, pale pink blood spattered over it liberally. He pulled up a neighbouring rock, pushing it to fall from the pile. He looked down and paused.

"Well," he breathed, crouching down and testing for a pulse around the unsalvageable Eridanian's forehead, "I'd like to say I'm sorry. But somehow I just wouldn't be able to make it sound sincere."

He turned carefully and skittered off the rocks, heading back for the door.

"I will do you one favour, though," he said, as if to himself. "I'll lie and tell Martha you're sorry for putting her through interminable agony and scrambling her brain for the day. But the Malaradarr'jin issue still stands."

He dusted off a sleeve as he ducked through the hole where the door had been.

And he didn't even look back.

-------------------------------------------------

Martha slowly trundled round to the control room, carrying two fresh cups of especially hot tea.

"Doctor?" she called, unable to see him. She looked around, thinking. "Why did you ask for a cup of tea if you're not working?" she asked herself, walking closer. She set the two cups down on the control surface, looking around. She rubbed her temple, wondering if the funny ache would recede further now that she'd bravely taken the two huge horse-tablets he'd left for her in the kitchen.

She walked all the way round the Time Rotor, checking the floor for signs of tools or working. She huffed as she found none, coming back to her mugs of tea on the console.

"Where did you get to now?" she asked. She bit her lip, thinking. She looked over, finding his long brown coat still hanging over a support strut to the ramp, and folding her arms slowly. She walked over and felt in the pockets.

"No key. I don't like this," she admitted to herself. "When you go off on your own, bad things happen." She walked back up to the Time Rotor, watching it hang there, as if waiting. "Well. It's not like I even know where you wen-"

The monitor blinked on suddenly. She looked around, expecting some tall lanky Gallifreyan to jump out from behind a support bulkhead and laugh at her gamely.

None did.

She walked over to the monitor quickly, pulling it round to study the screen.

"A map – of the magistrate's grounds," she said thoughtfully. She gasped suddenly and slapped a hand to her head, then instantly regretted it as pain shot through both temples. "Oh my god!" she blurted. "You went back for Malaradarr'jin!"

She turned and ran down the ramp, belatedly remembering to slap her jeans pocket to check for the presence of her key. She wrenched the door open and turned, locking it before running off into the direction of Iloia City's bright lights.

-------------------------------------------------

The Doctor slipped his hand through the door, grasped the white coat from the peg, and pulled it back through. He slipped it on quickly, pulling the ID tag off smartly and fumbling through the inside pockets of his brown jacket. He pulled out the black fold-over wallet, flipped open the psychic paper, and simply tucked the bottom flap into the breast pocket of the white coat.

He cleared his throat, pulled the coat straight, and then pushed the swing doors open with effort.

He walked in, letting his hands wander round and sit clasped behind his back. He stopped a few feet inside the doors, looking up and round slowly.

The cavern was huge. Over a hundred workers, all in white coats and appearing rather more than scientific in role, were tinkering, polishing, checking, performing diagnostics and all-in-all focusing their complete and undivided attention on the enormous ship parked in front of him.

It was easily five hundred yards in width, and he let his mouth loosen slightly as he walked closer slowly.

"Oh, now," he said appreciatively, walking up and simply staring at it. The polished silver nose, rather pug-like but a little pointed all the same, shone and reflected everything. "That's beautiful," he gushed, gaining speed as he got within twenty feet of the underside of the nose.

"Excuse me!" a tall Eridanian said quickly. He stopped but couldn't take his eyes from the ship's surface, so entranced was he with the shine and sleekness of it all.

"What now?" he asked testily, his attention ruffled.

"May I see your badge, sir?" the voice continued.

"Knock yourself out," he said, his face returning to a magnificent grin at the ship's appearance.

"The Doctor?" the voice said, surprised. "What Doctor? From where? Galla – Galler –"

"Gallifrey," he corrected, then slapped his mouth shut and looked from the ship to the scientist, who was watching him with large, frightened eyes. "What did you say?" he back-peddled.

"Gallifrey?" the man squeaked. "As in – Gallifrey?" he said bravely.

"As in, tell me what's going on and I won't get angry," the Doctor snapped. "Whoops, too late," he barked. The scientist stepped back one. "Who's in charge of this ship?" he demanded.

"You're real! You're actually a real alien from beyond the Sol System!" he whispered, overcome. "A real one! And from Gallifrey!" He gasped suddenly. "You came back! They said you would, if we ever –"

"The ship!" he cried, annoyed.

"It's – it's ours," he gibbered.

"Yes, I know _that_," he allowed hastily, grabbing the man by the arm and pulling him away from the groups of other people. _And why did the psychic paper tell the truth?_

"Are you really a Gall– ?" he squeaked.

"Is this the one the terrorists were building?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down.

"They weren't terrorists," he said quickly, confused. "Surely you've heard that we only –"

"The ride from Gallifrey has not been a smooth one," the Doctor admitted through his teeth. "I don't have time for this! They started this, and you lot are finishing it?" he demanded.

"N-no! They used to work here! Then they didn't like the change in plans and tried to steal the ship!" he gibbered.

The Doctor stared at him. "What change in plans?" he demanded, accidentally squeezing the man's arm painfully.

"We're not following the old plan to try Epsilon Eridani, we're going to Sol Four!"

"Why?" he demanded.

"To set the old base running again! But you know all this, don't you, my lord?" he asked, suddenly confused.

"Things have become confused over the many years," he conceded. "What's at the base on Sol Four?"

"The weapons! The army!" he hissed. "They just have to wake them and they can take Sol Three!"

"Oh yes, that's right, take, take, take," the Doctor snapped. "You hu – Eridanians," he corrected quickly. "Right then. Give me that," he said briskly, snatching the electronic data pad from the man's grasp. He read it over quickly. "Nearly ready, is she?" he demanded.

"N – nearly. We're just not sure how to start her –"

"I do," he said, "and I'm going to _help_ you start her up. Tell me, did the Gellerites thank you for stealing their designs? Or did you just buy a roll of Do-It-Yourself Gellerite Soaring Fortress Mark VI plans and get to work with the glue and balsa-wood, hmm?" he demanded, one eyebrow raised in abject accusation.

"Gellerites?" he asked. "What are –"

"You don't want to know. They're not going to be happy when they see this thing zooming about the galaxy thinking its an original," he snapped. "Now you wait here, don't breathe a word to _anyone_ and I'll be back here to help you get her started. In say, ooh, three hours?" he said, flicking his gaze over the scientist's head to the large digital read-out on the board behind him.

"Yes, my lord," he said gratefully.

"Good lad. Stay," he said sternly, turning and walking off.

The scientist sagged quickly, relief pouring off him in sheets.


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

Martha stole round the back of the police headquarters, noticing it had a rather familiar layout.

_Did they copy Hope Hospital, or did the hospital copy them?_

She prayed the back entrances would all be as easily accessible as the ones back in London. She was disappointed.

"Typical!" she tutted, trying the fourth door in a row and finding it tightly sealed from inside. She stood back, folding her arms and thinking. She looked up, stepped back one, and spied the window above the door.

"Just like old times," she smiled wickedly, turning and hurrying to the large waste containers against the wall. She rolled one over and then jumped up, scrabbling for purchase against the rough wall.

She pushed at the window, opening it easily enough, then put her hands on the ledge and jumped.

She slid through and eyed the floor on the inside, realising she was about to drop with nothing to stop her.

She hit the floor with a muffled thump and collected herself. She looked around quickly, wondering why she could hear alarms, running and orders being barked. She hurried to the door and looked out of the window, watching people hurrying past.

She shrank back and looked around the store room, then looked back at the door. She opened it confidently and stepped out, going with the tide of people as she looked up and around.

She spotted an information map on the wall, veering free of the crowd and reading it quickly. She took off in the opposite direction.

Ten minutes of walking and avoiding the eyes and ears of taller police officers got her to the detention cells. She ignored the calls of the officers and under cover of retreating or herding people, slipped into the Interview Room.

She looked around, finding the computer and hurrying over to it. It appeared to be left on from some worker's quick exit. The alarm bell stopped ringing abruptly and instead a voice came over the PA system.

"_All staff will evacuate. This is not a drill. Terrorists are inside the building. All staff will evacuate. This is not a drill. Terrorists are inside the building._"

She just looked up, surprised, and then back down at the computer, displaying the layout and new day's codes for entry to the cells and bays. She ran her eyes down the list of inmates, and stopped.

"Malaradarr'jin and… _Pal_aradarr'jin?" she whispered, then noted the cell number. She leaned over to scroll round the map, but heard voices and boots outside the door.

She ducked down and disappeared behind the desk swiftly.

"I'm sure she came this way," a voice said, travelling closer with each word. She held her breath and waited.

"We should be back at the ship. We're not supposed to be checking for some lost Sol Three. It's just a girl, anyway. As if she'd be clever enough to do any damage in here."

"Yeah, you're right," the original voice said. "What's the rush on the ship, anyway? I heard they couldn't get it to work." The voice started to grow fainter. She let out a breath.

"Some big chief scientist came down, said he'd have it going in a hour or so," the other voice said. "I've got a hundred darrik on him freaking out over the engines, like that last idiot."

"You're probably right. Let's get back to the hangar."

"Bit weird though, that wall in the detention area blowing out like that," the other voice continued, as they reached the door.

She heard it close behind them and relaxed, slumping against the inside of the desk gratefully.

"Some big chief scientist thinks he can fly a ship?" she said to herself with a wry smile. "If that's not you, Doctor, I'm in the wrong job here."

She crawled out and got to her feet, making for the doors. And the map.

-------------------------------------------------

The Doctor screwdrivered the door and swung it open quickly, looking in. He found three similarly tall, pale Eridanians lounging on matching bunks.

"Are you – yeah, you must be," he said dismissively, stepping in and hanging loosely from the doorframe. "Sorry, you _are_ Palaradarr'jin?" he asked the furthest one.

He put down the electronic book he was reading and sat up.

"Depends what you think I've done," he said mildly, then sat up straighter as the Doctor walked over swiftly, standing by his bunk.

"Look, it's really important that –"

"Who are you?" Palaradarr'jin said quickly. "No… _what_ are you?"

"What do I look like?" he asked gamely.

"A Sol Three. But something tells me… you're not," he said, mystified. "Why is that?"

"Probably because I _do_ look like a Sol Three, but I'm _not_," he said helpfully. "And you look like Malaradarr'jin, but _you're_ not."

"How do you know him? In fact, if you're not a local or are here to execute me and my band of technician rebels, how do you even know _me_ or where to find me?" he asked, completely baffled.

"Registry. Out in the main reception. Has lots of this really useful stuff called information if you only read the right pages," he said cheerfully. "Anyway –"

"And my brother? You've seen him?"

"Yes."

"Good. I hear he's coming back after they've finished trying to fry his memories," he said vehemently.

"I'm afraid he isn't," he said heavily. The other two inmates got up quickly, gathering round. The Doctor didn't even look up. "Look, if you and your lot want your ship back you'd better round up your faithfuls and get to it. That ship's leaving in an hour," he said plainly.

"The ship?" he demanded. "How? Why now? Who _are_ you?"

"I'm the man that's going to help you steal it back," he said simply. Palaradarr'jin looked at the others briefly.

"How can you do that?"

The Doctor pulled the TARDIS key from his pocket slowly, dangling it on front of Palaradarr'jin.

"Recognise the material?" he asked cheerfully. "You need this to start your engines, sir!"

"You sure?" he asked, looking at it. "Wait, that's… that's the same as the metal we found in the old computers, the grown ones!" he gasped. "So you're –"

"The man that's going to start the engines, now _come on_," the Doctor urged, turning for the door.

Palaradarr'jin and the two men followed quickly.

"Wait!" he called as he spotted the Doctor heading left down the corridor, "I have to get my brother!"

The Doctor stopped and turned. He looked at Palaradarr'jin for a long moment. Palaradarr'jin walked up to him.

"What?" he demanded. He watched the man who looked like a Sol Three but wasn't, as he studied his shoes. Eventually he looked back at him.

"Palaradarr'jin," he said gently, and he couldn't help but stare at him. His face was so sad, his eyes so sympathetic, and yet it was an anguish fuelled by something greater than what he had to say.

"Where is my brother?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said quietly. He held his gaze for a long, painful second. "I'm so sorry."

Palaradarr'jin stared at him, swallowing. "Are you… Are you sure?" he dared. The Doctor just gazed at him, prompting him to nod slowly to himself. "Who did it?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"Your chief of police," he said, an edge to his voice. Palaradarr'jin opened his eyes and looked at him.

The eyes, the bottomless, raging pools of experience, looked back at him for a long moment. The hair on the back of Palaradarr'jin's neck stood on end swiftly, every fibre in his body telling him to back away from the strange man, get distance between them, _just run away, get away from him_…

"Don't worry about Barrak'jin," he said heavily. "He saw to himself."

"He did?" he asked suddenly, "Or you did?"

"Me? I was unarmed," the Doctor said mildly. "Come on." He turned to go.

"Wait," Palaradarr'jin said quickly. The Doctor turned back and looked at him. "That material could only have come from one place. Are you… Are you from G-" He appeared to swallow his words, then took a deep breath. "Gallifrey. Are you from Gallifrey too?"

"I am," he said, feeling his shoulders widen just a little with the admission.

"And you saw Barrak'jin die?" he asked.

"I did."

"Then… I'll follow you anywhere," he said helplessly.

"Then do it quickly, we're running out of time!"


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN**

Martha walked through the door slowly, pulling her newly-borrowed white lab coat straight. She cleared her throat as she looked round carefully, trying to spot the brown suit or bed-hair of the Doctor.

She found nothing.

Nothing except the largest spaceship she had ever seen, parked directly in front of her, staff and technicians running to-and-fro carrying data pads and meters of all kinds.

She swallowed and stepped back, just staring at the clean lines, the shiny reflective surface, the sheer majesty of such a large vehicle sat so close to her.

She collected herself and walked round it slowly, noticing one scientist watching her with hope written on his face.

"Excuse me," he said quickly, crossing to her. She stood her ground, determined to get some answers out of him.

"What can I do for you?" she said professionally, folding her arms and doing her best impression of one of the officious trainee doctors back at Hope Hospital. She tried to look down her nose at the man, and it apparently worked. Even though she was, in fact, looking up at the taller being.

"Well I wanted to ask… You're a Sol Three?" he said, lowering his voice.

"Tad obvious, I thought," she said disapprovingly.

"But I mean, if you're a Sol Three, are you here with… the Doctor?" he asked carefully.

_Ah. So he's not going undercover this time,_ she realised.

"I am. I'm Martha, his assis – partner," she said firmly, putting her hand out. "And you are?"

He juggled his pad and meters into one hand, shaking hers rather limply, she noticed.

"Eenamar'jin," he said eagerly.

"Eenamar'jin," she said, nodding. "Well then, you can get me up to speed on what my partner left you in change of," she said briskly.

"Oh, well, he didn't really," he said quickly. "I mean, he says he can start the ship and get us off the ground in the next few hours, but he hasn't been back yet. I'm not sure how he's going to do it, we've been at it for six years now and we can never get the firing pins to align or the countdown to initiate itself." He gestured behind himself to the ship. "Come and see."

"Well who built it?" she asked, walking with him as he turned and waved her toward the ladder at the side.

"Two very, very promising brothers, Malaradarr'jin and Palaradarr'jin. They were our cleverest, most brilliant scientists."

"Hold on – Malaradarr'jin and Palaradarr'jin?" she asked, stopping him by the arm.

"Yes yes, I know," he said patiently. "They're now wanted by the police for terrorism. It's a pity, they were such geniuses at these things."

"So why do you think just woke up one day and decided to be terrorists?" she asked hotly. "How did they just start to believe they could be from another world?"

"The stories are all different, depending who to talk to, of course," he said apologetically. "Some say they built the ignition sequence around ancient technology, but then couldn't work out how to use it. Some say they simply took the government's money and pretended to work on the project, when in fact –"

"What do _you_ believe?" she asked sternly.

He looked at her, then straightened his back slowly. "I believe they are geniuses. I believe they used and adapted old, forgotten technology and then had problems putting it into practice," he said quietly. "Or at least I _would_, if not for… Oh dear," he said miserably, wiping his forehead.

"If not for what?" Martha asked, more accommodating. "Go on."

"Well… If they really _did_ find ancient technology, and used it, well then… Well then that means perhaps we're an older race than we thought. And it also means… that we had ships in ancient times, before we forgot it all. And that could mean… Well," he said suddenly, looking up at her and looking around, his frightened eyes scanning the room quickly.

She took a shifty look round herself, then stepped closer to him.

"What?"

"That means… that perhaps we're _not_ from Estylach after all," he whispered. "Oh dear me, this is treason," he moaned, wiping his face.

"But you know it's true, don't you?" she whispered fiercely. "You can feel it, you _know_ it. Don't you?"

He stared at her.

"I've met Sol Threes before," he said slowly, "and I knew that was ok because, well, Sol and its planets are just here, not far from us. But we don't look like you, we don't work like you, so we know we're not from Sol Three." He looked at his feet. "But I had never dreamed I could meet anyone from _outside_ the Sol System – outside _all_ the systems in the sky! Never could I hope to meet someone from Gallifrey, the word in all the banned records! And then to be stood face-to-face with a lord!"

"Oh yeah, he can be a bit arrogant like that," she muttered, then flicked her gaze up at him. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Oh, er, well, I mean, -"

"What do you see when you look at him? Everyone here seems to kind of look at him like he's got two heads or something," she said, bemused.

Eenamar'jin swallowed. "I can't say. I find it hard to describe. I look at other people like me, and they're them. I look at you, and I can see… the idea of other Sol Threes in you," he said.

"What do you mean?" she dared quietly.

"I can see… well, you have a kind of Sol Three… er, field," he said gingerly. "Like… Like lamps give off slight static rings round the top. Or a music player always has that kind of whine of power –"

"And with the Doctor?"

"There's… something," he said, confused. "Something very… wide. And… dark. It's hard to explain," he said timidly. She nodded for him to continue. "Well, you can see it… He's… He's so… _singular_," he stressed. "It's just him. There is nothing else around him. No bio-field, no Gallifrey, even. But then he looks at you and it's like everything from everyone he's ever known has been concentrated in his eyes."

"Oh I know what _that_ feels like, when he stares at you like you've just dropped jam on the Time Rotor," she said dismissively.

"It's more than that. It's… unnerving," he said. "Those eyes go on forever."

"Yeah," she said suddenly, shaking off a sudden, uneasy chill down her spine. "Hang on – if you lot aren't supposed to believe in other worlds outside the Solar System, how come you lot know he's from Gallifrey?"

"There's a lot of banned and encrypted files you get to read when they let you be a Top Secret scientist," he said, with an attempt at a winning smile. She watched him.

"I'll just bet there is," she said. "So how long have you believed in these two crazy scientists' treasonous beliefs?" she teased.

He looked around again leisurely.

"Since I saw the Doctor, and _knew_ he wasn't from the Sol System, and realised it's all true… All of it. And then when the Doctor told me he could start the ship. He must know a lot about this kind of thing to be so confident," he remarked, slightly awed.

"Don't let him give you that impression. He's just good at letting you believe what you want," she remarked dryly. "Anyway, are we looking at this ship then?"

-------------------------------------------------

The Doctor strode into the hangar, finding Eenamar'jin disappearing up the ladder to the ship. He hurried up the thin ladder after him, turning left and stepping through an almost submarine-door-like hole to get into the cockpit.

"Bit pokey, isn't it?" he said aloud, then looked up at Eenamar'jin. The scientist opened his mouth to reply but the Doctor's gaze had veered past his right side. "Martha Jones, what _are_ you doing in that ridiculous coat? Anyone would think you're a doctor!" he gushed delightedly.

Eenamar'jin took a step back, Martha ignoring him as she pushed past him and threw her arms round the Time Lord, who was grinning broadly with daffy enthusiasm. He simply held onto her, chuckling.

"Tablets did the trick then?" he teased, pulling her away to look at her.

"They did," she confirmed, letting go of him. "Oh, er, Eenamar'jin was just showing me the controls," she added quickly, turning and looking at him. But the Eridanian was looking at the Doctor, seemingly aggrieved.

The Doctor looked at him and his schoolboy grin faded instantly.

"What is it?" he asked quickly, alarmed.

"Just then, you – you had a field," he whispered. "And it was… a nightm– "

"Eenamar'jin, old man, I hate to rush you, but I have a few passengers arriving in a few minutes and, well, we're not exactly ready to leave, are we?" he said loudly, avoiding the scientist's gaze as he slide himself into one of the three pilot chairs, looking over the controls.

"You do know how to start one of these, then?" Martha asked quickly, leaning over his chair to watch him.

"Of course I do!" he protested slowly, eyeing her. "You'd think I'd pack the plane full of holiday-makers and then realise the thing's missing an engine?" he cried, incredulous.

"Yes," she said firmly, and he turned in the seat and looked at her with amazement. But she just grinned and patted his shoulder, watching him squirm back round and start flipping buttons and switches.

"Right then," he said, sitting straight and cracking his knuckles grandly. He got up and slid out of the rather confined pilot's chair, looking at Martha. "Martha Jones, get ready to receive passengers. Oh and be careful – I don't think the locals will want their sort boarding," he said quickly. Martha nodded. "Eenamar'jin, you come with me," he said smartly. He pushed past him politely and made for the door.

"Where are _we_ going?" he asked.

"To find the engines," he said simply, lifting a trapdoor and sticking his head down through it. "Ah-ha," he said curiously to himself. "Well then, _allons_-y," he said, leaning back and throwing his feet down the hole. He slid in and disappeared.

Eenamar'jin looked at Martha helplessly.

"Trust me, mate. Get down there and just do whatever he wants. He might look mad, but it all works out in the end," she added kindly.

He nodded and turned, following him down the trapdoor.


	11. Chapter 11

**ELEVEN**

"So are you a close friend of Malaradarr'jin and Palaradarr'jin?" Eenamar'jin asked eagerly. "Did you talk to them? Are they pleased with everything we've done?"

"Ah, look, could you just – um – hand me that and – just, er, stop talking?" the Doctor said, completely pre-occupied.

Eenamar'jin closed his mouth quickly and turned, spying the spanner hanging on the wall next to him. He unhooked it and handed it over.

"Oh yes! Now _that's_ what I call a laser spanner," the Doctor gushed, grinning to himself and disappearing to floor-level. Eenamar'jin watched him as he used it to open up another, wide trapdoor and simply threw himself down it.

"Er, Doctor?" he withered, crouching at the trapdoor.

"Engines! Ooohh, engines! Look at that! Reverse-axial fargan-looped Dareto Mark IIIs!" the Doctor crowed in incredulity, surprising Eenamar'jin with the abundant mixture of cheer and derision for the machines he was finding in front of him.

"Is that… bad?" he ventured.

"It's amazing!" the Doctor cried, the sound of his chuckling floating up from the dark. "I haven't seen a set of Dareto Mark IIIs working in… ooh, four? Five hundred years? They're so _quaint_," he stressed.

Eenamar'jin swallowed gingerly.

"That's a long time," he dared.

"_Well_, I say four or five hundred, but that assumes a certain rigidity and linearity of Time that I don't actually subscribe to," he went on, oblivious to the Eridanian engineer above him. "I was just in the seventeenth century last week, after all," he added to himself. "Then there was that time we ended up in –"

"Doctor?" Eenamar'jin said quickly.

"Right here!" he called jovially.

"You said this design was taken from another people," he said cautiously.

"Gellerites," the Doctor called up through the hole. "Otherwise known as 'evil little jelly babies'."

"So do these engines also come from their ship?" he asked.

"No!" the Doctor said, and he heard shuffling and grunting. Suddenly the Doctor's pale hands appeared on the lip of the hole and he dragged his head up, looking at Eenamar'jin in surprise. "What I want know is how Malaradarr'jin and Palaradarr'jin got plans to a Gellerite ship in the first place," he said. "And then how they nicked all this engine stuff and made it fit," he added.

"I thought you worked with them?" he asked.

"Me? No! Why would you think that?" he asked quickly, looking at him with intense curiosity.

"Well… I thought that's how you knew about the ship, and where it was, and…"

"Eenamar'jin," he said slowly, then let out a long breath. "Look, this it going to be a shock. A big one," he said, then looked at him speculatively. "Actually, no, we don't have time for this. Palaradarr'jin can explain it all when he arrives."

"Palaradarr'jin's coming here?" he said excitedly.

"Oh yes! And quite a few people who are going to be very, very helpful," he said, before letting himself back down through the hole. His hands let go of the edge and Eenamar'jin sagged back against the wall happily.

-------------------------------------------------

Martha turned to the cockpit window at the sound of gunfire. As one, the entire hangar full of people turned and looked to the doors.

Hundreds of the tall, pale Eridanians were piling through the swing doors, angry-looking detention cell guards following with handguns. They let off the occasional shot in some futile attempt to stop the hoards of people flooding toward the ship.

Martha jumped up and ran to the steps, putting her fingers in her mouth and letting out a piercing whistle. Everyone in white coats jumped and looked up at her, watching them all from the top of the steps.

"Every scientist out of here _now_!" she shouted, as loud as she could manage.

The white-coated workers didn't need telling twice. They simply dropped everything and fled to the sides of the hangar, avoiding the tide of people heading for the steps to the ship.

Martha looked around, imagining the carnage of all those hundreds of people trying to get up a single ladder.

Suddenly Eenamar'jin's head appeared next to her. Someone let off a shot and it skimmed the skin of the ship worryingly close to them.

"Get back inside!" she ordered, even as she looked down at the ladder. "Cargo doors," she muttered suddenly. "Cargo doors!" She turned to Eenamar'jin. "Find a way to open the cargo doors! Now!"

Eenamar'jin just turned and ran back inside the cockpit, trying to read the switches and decide the best way to get the huge doors open in the belly of the ship.

Martha turned and ran for the inside, careening round and jumping down the hole in the floor. She followed it round the tight corridor, stopping abruptly. She managed to avoid falling into another hole.

"Doctor!" she shouted down into it.

"Oh what now?" he demanded irritably. "I'm trying to figure out –"

"Palaradarr'jin and half the city have arrived! Eenamar'jin's trying to get the cargo bay doors open to get them in, but the guards are firing –"

"Blimey, if it's not one thing it's a smother," he sighed, pushing himself up out of the trapdoor and getting to his feet. "You get down there and plug all the white cable in the white holes," he said briskly. She grabbed his jacket sleeve as he turned to leave.

"Do what?" she demanded, eyes wide. "I don't know anything about bloody spaceship wires-"

"Martha Jones," he said loudly, drowning her out. "What do you need to know? The white cables go in the white sockets. That's all," he said. She let go of his sleeve, but he put his hands to the outsides of her shoulders, squeezing. "Would I ask you to do this if I couldn't trust you?"

"I see," she said quietly, staring at those large, dark pools of churning experience and understanding in a flash exactly what had scared Eenamar'jin so. And yet those eyes intrigued her, challenged her, made her wonder why she was even questioning herself.

_I can do this, right? How hard can it be to plug cables into sockets? I even set Dad's Sky box up, this should be easy._

"Good girl," he grinned, winking quickly and releasing her arms. He turned and disappeared.

She turned and lowered herself into the bowels of the ship.

-------------------------------------------------

"Eenamar'jin! How's that door coming!" the Doctor called as his head popped up through the cockpit trapdoor.

"Er, er, well, I'm not sure –"

"Oh just press something!" he heaved as he dragged himself out of the hole, swinging his feet up nimbly and hurrying up behind the Eridanian. "Like this one!"

He snapped the switch up and they both felt the rumble through the ship. A light blinked on and Eenamar'jin gasped, grabbing the Doctor's arm excitedly.

"That's the doors opening! We have power!" he croaked, beside himself.

"Yeah well, we're going to need a lot more than that to break atmosphere, and preferably before the city's entire police force get down here," he said quickly, turning and leaning out of the main door to the ship. A shot rang out and glanced off the doorframe. He yanked his head back in, then leaned out again. "Oi! That's just _rude_!" he shouted angrily.

He turned and raced back into the cockpit, sliding past Eenamar'jin and pulling the screwdriver from his pocket. He looked over the controls quickly, then slid his thin fingers round a rather innocuous-looking slot in the dashboard arrangement.

He pulled it out and then pushed the screwdriver into his teeth, studying the board even as he put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out his glasses. He pushed them on and his brow cleared.

"Ah. Perfect!" he smiled past the screwdriver, then pulled it from his teeth and flicked it on.

Eenamar'jin turned at the sound of the instrument, watching the Doctor run it up and down the board repeatedly. The Time Lord tossed it carelessly toward the control console and then snatched another one out of the slot next to it, giving it similar sonic treatment. He stood back and then looked over the controls quickly. He leaned over them, pondered for a moment, then reached out and snapped two switches down.

A low rumbling was heard around the hangar.

Everyone stopped and looked at the ship. The smarter scientists took this opportunity to leave via the large entrance doors, unnoticed by the guards now staring at the ship.

"Is that it?" Eenamar'jin dared.

"Don't be daft, that was just a dampening pulse. Every gun in range when that went off is now officially an _over_-weight paper-weight," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Ooh I like that, '_over-weight paper weight_'," he grinned to himself. Then he shook his head briskly and turned, racing back to the hole. "You wait here. Just a quick tinker with the engines and we're in business!" he cried enthusiastically. "Ha!" he barked cheerfully with absolute conviction, jumping back down the hole in the decking.

Eenamar'jin watched him go, shaking his head.

The Doctor dropped down and hurried round to the next hole in the floor, swinging his feet over the edge and dropping down.

He turned and looked at the banks of engines through the glass door to his left, then at the controls and engineer's panels to his right.

He hurried over and peered at the controls.

"Right then, how hard can this be?" he said cheerfully to himself. "That's the cross-feed manipulator, so that must be a… No, is it? Really?" he demanded, his voice wedged at the highest pitch. "_Noooo_, can't be…"

He straightened abruptly and stepped back one, shocked. He ripped his glasses off and thought for a long moment.

He swallowed cautiously, as if it might set off some kind of chain reaction. He pushed his glasses back on, then walked up to it again slowly, bending down to see.

"Now that's impossible," he breathed, but a tiny, tiny smile fought bravely for, and won, a few seconds on his lips. "You're a Baseroteric De-Antonn Board. A Baseroteric De-Antonn Board! If I find that you're connected to an Anarlageteric Inline Augmenter there's going to be –"

He stood back abruptly, looked at the ceiling, and howled with over-excited laughter.

"I don't believe it! I _don't_ believe it!" he crowed, jumping up and down and dragging his hands back through his hair, scrubbing at it with enthusiasm. "Someone's built you with salvaged TARDIS parts! Someone who wanted to make sure he wasn't alone in the universe before he set off looking for that company! Someone clever enough to use what he found and make it _work_ for him, make it bring the help to _him_!" he cried, ecstatic.

He put his hand in his pocket, pulling out the TARDIS key and grinning at it. He looked at the control panel and the space between the last two huge plugs, presumably to transfer massive amounts of energy. He looked back at the key, then laughed again.

"_Ohhh_! That's what he wanted the key for – not for the metal content, for the _Gallifrey_ content!" he crowed, grabbing at his hair and wheezing with laughter. "You crafty, crafty, _crafty_ little Eridanian, you! Oh good boy, you marvellous, _clever_ little rebel, Palaradarr'jin!"

He pushed the key into the space between the two plugs, moving them outwards slightly to make room for it. He held it in place and pulled the two plugs back in. They clamped onto the edges of the key without too much trouble, and the Doctor stood back, just marvelling at it.

After a long moment he closed his mouth, grinned delightedly, and turned to the second control board. He paused suddenly, gasping in shock. Then his face fell.

He turned and scrambled out of the hole quickly.


	12. Chapter 12

**TWELVE**

"Eenamar'jin!" he shouted, crawling up through the space in the cockpit.

"Doctor! They're fighting!" he said wretchedly.

The Doctor heaved himself out of the hole and found Martha's hand helping him up.

"Palaradarr'jin and some of the people with him – they're having a go at the guards," she said quickly. "When they realised the guns didn't work, that was it, they just leapt at each other."

"We have bigger problems," the Doctor said.

"Bigger than Estylach's first world war going on outside their first ever spaceship?" she said sarcastically.

"When this thing takes off, we can't be on it. We have to leave them to it and get back to the TARDIS."

"Oh. Yeah," she sighed, sagging.

"So I'll get Eenamar'jin down there and show him what to do to set it off. _You'll_ get Palaradarr'jin and he can pilot the thing while we stand and watch from a very safe distance. Got it?"

"Got it," she nodded, raising a hand and slapping his arm.

The Doctor turned and grabbed an aghast Eenamar'jin by the arm, dragging him toward the hole in the floor. Martha squared her shoulders, turned, and went back to the main door of the ship. She looked out and then slid her fingers into her mouth again.

She blew out a piercing whistle. Many people stopped. Some were beyond hearing, so engrossed were they in the fray.

"Oi! Palaradarr'jin!" she shouted. "Palaradarr'jin! We need a pilot!"

"Just what on Estylach is going on here!" shouted a new voice over loud speakers. "Everyone will stand down at once! This is the Premier of Estylach!"

Martha held her breath against some caustic remark. Instead she looked over at the source of the noise.

She found a tall, pale Eridanian standing by the doors, a radio in his hand. He appeared handsomely dressed, his pale yellow hair on each side of his head and neck perfectly cropped and neat. On top of his bald pate was a regal looking cap, with several small emblems on it.

Martha thought quickly. She ran down the steps and pushed through the crowd.

"All of you! Get in the cargo bay, _now_!" she shouted. She grabbed at Palaradarr'jin's arm and dragged him back. "Come on! We need you!"

"Let me go! They killed my brother!" he shouted.

"What?" she demanded. She stared at him, and he at her. "Malaradarr'jin is dead? I don't believe you!"

"Ask your strange friend," he said simply. "He told _me_. And then he told me who did it."

"Who?" she dared.

"Commissioner Barrak'jin," he said, amidst sudden shouting and the sounds of weapons.

She stood, hearing the swell of angry voices, the sounds of new troops arriving and cocking a hundred fresh weapons, the angry sounds of people readying stray scientific instruments to use as instant weapons in defence.

"And where is he now?" she asked. Palaradarr'jin just looked down at her sadly. "Where!" she shouted, grabbing his arm.

"Ask your friend."

He shook her off and she stumbled back slightly, slapping a hand to her mouth and swallowing the shock. She stared, but she also saw through the moment.

She threw herself at him from behind, grabbing his arm and simply turning, wrenching him through and toward the steps.

"I don't care!" she shouted through gritted teeth. "You're going to pilot this ship and take all of your believers with you!"

"Without my brother? Without Malaradarr'jin?" he shouted angrily.

"Well you're sure as hell not staying here and leaving this ship to the government!" she raged. "After all he did with you to get it going, are you _really_ going to stand there and just let them take it? Cos they will, Palaradarr'jin, if you don't shift your arse _right now_!"

He let himself be dragged and then caught hold of the metal steps. He looked at her.

"Who _are_ you?" he demanded, mystified.

"I knew your brother. Now go," she snapped, giving him a push.

He staggered and turned, racing up the steps.

-------------------------------------------------

"We're good to – oh, hello!" the Doctor cried unexpectedly, spotting Palaradarr'jin entering the cockpit. "Now listen here, mate, I'd like to know just where you half-inched those TARDIS parts from!" he said cheerfully, pulling himself completely from the hole in the floor.

Palaradarr'jin turned and looked at him, surprised.

"They were given to me," he said simply. "You know they're TARDIS parts…" He snapped his fingers. "Ah, so that makes you Theta, am I right?" he realised.

"Who?" he asked immediately, his face blank, "Shouldn't think so," he added mildly, his face suddenly serene. "So who gave them to you?" he asked, a little too coolly.

"Look, we _really_ don't have time for this!" Martha shouted from the doorway. The Doctor looked over at her, then back at Palaradarr'jin slowly.

"She's right. And I think some questions are better left unanswered." He walked over, putting his hand out. "Well then Palaradarr'jin, it's been… eventful," he said gingerly.

"Yeah," he said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly.

"Just go easy as you break atmosphere," he said. "Although I have a sneaking suspicion you and your brother knew a lot more about this thing than you ever let on. Am _I_ right?" he asked, one eyebrow raised well up under his fringe.

"Maybe," Palaradarr'jin grinned. "Thanks. For that other thing. Commissioner Barrak'jin," he said, more quietly.

Martha's jaw took on a definite edge.

"Time, gents!" she called out.

"Yep," the Doctor said quickly, letting his hand drop. "Take care of them all. Drop us a line when you reach… wherever it is you're going," he said. "Just out of interest –"

"Oh there's this star about fifty light-years further on away from Sol. Thought we'd take a look," he said slyly.

"Did you now," the Doctor said knowingly. "Just don't wander too far out of this quadrant, this ship still looks like it was nicked from a Gellerite used ship forecourt."

"Will do. Thanks for getting her started."

"Thanks for letting me," he winked, then just let his hands slip into his pockets. He walked past him and Martha, taking the steps down quickly and not looking back.

Martha looked at Palaradarr'jin quickly.

"I'm sorry about Malaradarr'jin," she said quietly. "But we really have to go. You'll be alright, yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding confidently. "You'd better go. Get him back to his TARDIS. Just… Look, it's none of my business, and I probably shouldn't say anything, but… the person who gave me the engine parts. She said that one day someone would come who'd know how to use them. That's why we had to wait for the right material in the key. She said to… to tell his friend, to tell _you_… don't leave him on his own."

"Why?" she dared, her breath catching slightly in her throat. "Who was she?"

"She never said her name. Said I wouldn't have been able to pronounce it. I always thought she was impossibly old – like _him_. She made me a very useful screwdriver – she said she'd made one for him too once," he said quietly, a small smile on his face.

The ship shuddered suddenly and she grabbed at the door frame, hearing the sound of shots and shouts from under the steps.

He nodded to her and she swallowed, nodding and running down the steps.

Just as she reached the bottom there was an almighty roar, and huge, ripping, crashing that forced her hands over her ears. She looked around, and then felt something on her upper arm, pulling.

She looked round to find the Doctor clamping one hand over his ear, the other pulling her after him as he made for the hangar wall. She leaned against it, squeezing her eyes shut and desperately pushing her hands over her ears seemingly without effect.

The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver and released the screws holding the safety panel to the wall. A few swift kicks and it gave inwards.

He straightened and grabbed Martha's arm, pushing her down and through it quickly. She found herself in a small tunnel and just scrabbled along it.

The noise only got louder, and she cried out with the pain in her head. Still she slid and scrabbled, knowing only too well what would happen to them in the small tunnel if the engines ignited the old-fashioned way and turned the hangar into a giant barbecue pit.

She scrabbled and shuffled on for just a few minutes, but they were the longest minutes of her life.

Suddenly the tunnel jerked and shuddered, and she had a brief fear that the whole hangar would go up, tunnel and all. It rocked violently and she screamed.

She had time to realise she was about to be kebabbed in a small, dusty metal tunnel on some foreign world only ten light-years from her system of the galaxy that didn't even have a Turkish restaurant. She almost appreciated the irony.

Almost.

She heard the tunnel squeal and protest as it twisted.

She felt it all come crashing down on her back, pressing her to the tunnel painfully.

Then she felt nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

**THIRTEEN**

She opened her eyes slowly, wheezing and trying to draw breath into her lungs.

It was hard; the weight of the tunnel on her back, pressing her to the floor, was close to unbearable.

And then she moved her head up, resting her chin on the floor and blinking.

The tunnel was clear. There was no rubble. There was no twisted, warped, burnt metal to cause injury or danger.

"So what the bloody hell is on –"

She shifted her hands under her, trying to raise herself on one elbow. She half-managed it and twisted her head back to try and see over her shoulder.

"Oi!" she gasped, surprised. The Doctor's hand slipped from the back of her head to the tunnel floor by her other side. She sniffed a few times and then her eyes widened. "Oi! Doctor!" she shouted, shifting and trying to bump his heavy weight off her back. "_Oi_! Look alive! You're crushing me, you stupid Time Lord!"

She wiggled her shoulders and heaved suddenly.

He slid off her back and his head thumped against the tunnel wall.

"Oh my god! I didn't mean to do that, are you –"

His face creased with annoyance slightly, his eyes still closed. "Just let me doze a few minutes, Romana, jelly babies are in my coat pocket," he murmured.

She just blinked at him, then threw him off her properly and turned in the tunnel, putting her hands to his jacket and shaking him as best she could.

"Doctor! Something smells like yesterday's barbecue and I think it's you!" she shouted in his face.

His eyes popped open and he stared at her from barely two inches away.

"Who's barbecued?" he cried, alarmed. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Doctor," she said, letting go of him and looking up along the tunnel. "How long have we got left to go?"

"A few hundred feet," he said, then scrubbed at his face and then his hair roughly. "Daa! That's better!" he cried. "Well, come on then, ladies first!"

She just looked at him at close range.

"Alright. But no watching my arse, thinking I won't know," she teased. She pushed herself round and onto her hands and knees with a smile.

"Why do you think I want _you_ to go in front? Not that I don't trust you behind me when I'm on my hands and knees, Martha Jones, but I _don't_," he grinned.

"Git," she breathed, shaking her head and shuffling on down the tunnel.

-------------------------------------------------

He unlocked the door of the TARDIS and pushed it open for her, waiting for her to walk in. He followed her, turning and closing it quietly. He watched her walk slowly up the ramp, peeling off her jacket and throwing it at the high chairs by the Time Rotor.

He ambled up the ramp with all the time in the world, sniffing cheerfully to himself as he undid the buttons on his jacket and slid it off. He turned it round to look at the back panel, finding it singed and smelling rather like acrylic that's been cut too fast with a cheap metalwork saw.

"Typical. If it's not the Chucks, it's the suit," he said ruefully. "Nice to know I have another one, eh?" he sniffed to himself.

"So tell me," she said quietly, turning and looking at him. "What _did_ happen to Malaradarr'jin?"

He took a deep breath, tossing the jacket onto the centre console and letting his hands slide into his pockets.

"Commissioner Barrak'jin was a cruel, evil deviant who killed the poor bugger with a brain scanner," he said shortly. "Not pretty, but there it is."

She watched his face. Impassive.

"And then you killed Barrak'jin," she said gently. He looked up at her, startled.

"Me? Kill Barrak'jin?" he demanded, his voice high-pitched and very, very hurt. "Martha Jones, I'm staggered you could even think I'd do that on purpose!"

He turned and picked up his jacket, slamming his hand against a few switches and dials. He turned to go, then whipped back and rammed up a lever.

The Time Rotor started to rise and the TARDIS moved off.

He turned and stormed off, leaving her with only the Time Rotor for company.

-------------------------------------------------

She sat on the bed, her adopted bed in her adopted room in her adopted home-from-home currently strolling amiably through the Time Vortex.

She felt herself lean forward and put her elbows on her knees, and then her head in her hands.

She thought back over the past few days, the people she had met, the people who had died, the places she had seen and barely escaped alive, the person she had upset…

She sniffed and realised her face was actually wet. She leaned into her hands and let herself sniffle quietly for some minutes.

She jumped and looked over as the door began to swing open with a loud creak.

The Doctor slithered gracefully round the half-open door.

"Right, here we are then. Thought you might –" He stopped abruptly as he looked up at her, surprised by her face as she stared back at him. "Oh," he managed awkwardly. He looked down at the mug of tea he had in each hand, then back over at her. "Um… Biscuit?" he offered humbly, smiling while trying on his best puppy-dog eyes. "I've got Hob-Nobs. With chocolate."

She grinned despite herself. "You can get tablets for that, they'll clear it right up," she said gamely.

He grinned and walked over, sitting down next to her on the bed and then leaning across her as if he owned the place – which he did, Martha realised – and set the two mugs down on her adopted bedside table. He looked at the ceiling bravely, putting an arm round her and pulling her in against him.

She leaned on him gratefully, resting her head on his shoulder and sniffing.

"I'm sorry," she said clearly.

"What for this time? If I find you've not replaced the toilet roll again, I'll –"

"Doctor," she whispered, and he swallowed.

"Yeah," he agreed heavily. "Still, all over now. And at least Palaradarr'jin and a good portion of his friends got away with that lovely shiny ship, eh?" he said, trying to be cheerful.

"I didn't actually believe you'd killed him. Not on purpose. I don't need to know what happened. It doesn't matter. I don't believe you _could_ have killed him."

The Doctor was quiet for a long time, so impossibly long she feared he had forgotten she was there.

"Do you know why I hate it when you cry?" he asked amiably.

"You hate it when I cry?" she asked, sniffing and wiping at her eyes slowly, regaining some composure.

"Because that's when you think you're useless. But you're not," he said quietly, as if to himself. "You just think you are. And then when you're all back to normal again, and you've had a proper, _hot_ cup of tea, and the world's the right side up again, you realise you were being silly." He paused, looking at her. She leaned her head off him to meet his gaze. "Right?"

"Yeah," she allowed.

"See? I was right," he said to himself. "Anyway, I brought you some tea."

"Yeah, I noticed," she said dryly, sniffing and leaning away from him, sitting up. He let his arm drop and instead put his hands to her bed behind him, leaning back on them. "Although, just for once it'd be nice to have coffee on board," she smiled.

"Coffee? _Yeeuuukkkk_," he spat, hanging his tongue out at the very thought. "No, tea's what you need – just a good cup of tea. A whole load of those old super-heated free radicals and tannin, just the thing for healing the synapses. And I should know," he said cheerfully.

She grinned and wiped at her face again, twisting to look at him.

"Doctor," she said, and he looked at her.

"What?"

"Go get the Hob Nobs. The chocolate ones," she said.

"Righty-ho then," he grinned, bounding up off the bed and out of the room.

She shook her head, grinned, and took a deep breath.

And got up, went to her adopted dressing table, and picked up her bottle of make-up remover with cleanser.

**THE END**


End file.
